“All right,” Noah agrees, but his dark blond eyebrows are furrowed into a frown. Those silvery eyes hold mine. “There’s takeout in the fridge. Unless you’re good to go on all that milk you guzzled.”
I grab the fridge door, open it, push past my partner’s specially bagged blood products, and find the white foam container of . . . whatever. I grab it and carry it to the microwave. After it heats, I sit down at the kitchen table and Noah watches me closely as I devour two slabs of batter-fried haddock, a pile of thick chips, and a beef pie. At least, I think it was a beef pie. It all went down so fast I barely tasted the glob of brown sauce and malt vinegar Noah had covered the chips in.
Like my narcoleptic hell, the appetite I wake up to is something uncontrolled, and pretty impressive for a girl. I guess it’s my body’s way of keeping me in good functioning condition. I honestly can’t help it. But my thoughts remain on Eli. Always.
I rise and toss my empty container in the trash, down a warm soda, and throw it away, too. I glance at Noah.
“Give me ten minutes,” I say. “I need to shower.”
“Ten,” he agrees. “I threw your bag in the first room.”
I leave the kitchen without another word, hurry to the first guest room, and toss my duffel onto the bed. Riffling through what small amount of belongings I packed, I pull out a clean pair of black skinny jeans, a long-sleeved black Under Armour shirt, panties and socks, and a clean sports bra. Grabbing the smaller bag containing bathroom stuff, I head to the room’s en suite bath. Within seconds I’m stripped and standing beneath a steaming waterfall. Soapy water runs down my body, my arms, and for a moment, I stare at the dragon’s tail that’s wrapped around one of them. I skim my hand over it, remembering the day my best friend, Nyx, inked it there. Starting at my lower spine, the dragon winds up and over my shoulder. The tail curls around my index finger. It was the last part to be colored in. Hurt like a mother, right there over my bony knuckle. And it seems so long ago. A whole life ago.
Rinsing the conditioner from my hair, I turn the water off, wrap my hair in a towel, and climb out. Just as I turn my head to close the shower door, the window catches my eye in the mirror. A face. My heart stops.
I whip around and stare at the window.
Nothing’s there.
There’s a ledge above the toilet, just beneath the window. I leap up and crouch, tilting my head sideways and peering out. I see nothing but a streetlight, the sidewalk, and the Rover I hijacked. Nothing else.
“What the hell, Riley?”
I turn and glance at Noah, standing just inside the bathroom door. “I thought I saw something. A face.” I peer back outside. Still nothing but darkness and shadows. I fine-tune my hearing, and everything normal screeches to a halt. The sounds I hear now are that of a mouse’s heartbeat. The scratching of some small animal against the bark of a tree. A human’s breath easing in and out of lungs.
Nothing else.
I look at Noah and jump down, clutching my towel to my body. I land on the white cotton bath rug. “It was Eli.”
“Come on, darlin’,” Noah says in his Charleston drawl. “That fast and you know it was Eli?”
My head spins. “I don’t know anymore. Get out so I can get dressed and we can get the hell out of here,” I say, frustrated. I look at Noah. “It’ll only take a sec.”
Noah says nothing and backs out of the bathroom.
I drop the towel and throw on my clothes. Quickly, I pull my wet hair back and secure it with a silver clip. In my room, I yank on my boots and jacket and pass Noah in the hall.
The night air is chilled; it’s early November in the Highlands. Funny, I can tell it’s chilly out—probably more than chilly. Air is crisp. I feel the cold, feel the wind. My breath puffs out before me as warm meets cold. But it doesn’t affect me as it did when I was solely human. My eyes search the dark, the shadows. I sniff the air. I listen.
Many things assault my senses.
None of them scream Eli.
“Shake it off,” Noah says. “And get your head in the game.” He glances at his watch. “Twenty minutes till midnight. Let’s get moving.” One final glare, his gaze levels mine. “Don’t take off away from me, Riley Poe. Swear to God, I’ll kick your ass.”
With one more glance around our guesthouse, we head out to Montague Row and follow it along, side by side, at a fairly brisk human walk. It’s still early, and there are people moving about. Not many, but enough that I have to tune back my hearing. Too many human heartbeats, voices, whispers at once. Almost makes me dizzy. It’s become so easy for me now. I just . . . think it, and it happens. Kinda scary, and I believe that particular trait came from Vic’s father, Senior Arcos. In times of extreme adrenaline, though, I have to concentrate. Probably a good thing, or else people would be slapping one another in the face, pulling hair, and tripping pedestrians.
We walk down to the river Ness, and follow the walkway hugging the shore. Even at midnight on a Thursday night, it’s pretty lively on the riverfront. Several pubs and eating establishments line the river, and I have to stop and take it in. The moment I halt, Noah does, too, and he looks at me. I close out the drone of human conversation, and listen for minor details. A single racing heart. A whimper. A cry of fright, of disbelief. The air catching in a throat.
Fast footfall.
Heavy, a human male. Not used to running. Heart rate around one hundred and seventy now. I cock my head, listening.
“He’s two streets over, heading upriver, toward the bridge,” I say.
We both take off fast, slipping closer into the shadows of the buildings, leaping over anything that’s in our way. I’m a head and neck in front of Noah, and as we hit the walkway down to the river, I see him. I can’t tell his age, but I’m guessing midthirties. Not used to a lot of exercise, and he’s winded as hell. Dark clothes, gray woolen coat. He’s got a black skully on. I scan the darkness. “What’s spooking him?”
Noah and I are nearly on top of him, and we Y off from each other. I take the human, and with one leap I take him to the ground. His grunt resonates against my chest. Quickly, I roll off him and briefly glance up. Behind and above me, I see Noah leap into an ancient tree with long, heavy branches. I turn my attention to the man.
“You okay?” I ask, and jump to my feet. I extend a hand.
His face is stark white against the black skully pulled over his ears. He doesn’t accept my hand, instead stares at me. Blank faced. “I dunno—”
It happens so fast my mind spins a little as I react. Noah and another—completely morphed and fanged—drop from the canopy of the tree above. The vampire swings at Noah, who has him by the neck, then builds strength and lunges directly toward the human. I find my blade in the back of my jeans and hurl it at the vampire’s heart. It sinks a solid inch over the hilt. The vampire drops to the ground, inches from the human. The moment his body crumples, he begins to convulse.
The man stares wide-eyed at the seizing form on the ground. Stepping closer, I place my hand on his arm and pull him away. He doesn’t resist. I turn him around and force him to look at me. The whites of his eyes take up nearly the entire orb. Go straight home now. Forget you were chased. Forget what you’ve seen. And for a while, stay home after dark, if you can. Hurry.
His stare vacant, the guy turns, shoves his hands into his woolen coat pockets, and starts up the sidewalk at a brisk walk. I watch him until he turns up a street and disappears.
“One more down,” Noah says.